When we left the airport, which was about an hour tube ride from our Airbnb and Central London, we were like three blind mice aimlessly wandering around a city. It was still daytime, mid-afternoon to be exact, and every clock I looked at had military time on it. My phone didn't have any cellular service, and I hadn't been able to tell my mom I'd arrived safely yet.
Even though I was 20-years-old and fully capable of traveling on my own, my mom and I never went a day without talking. We always said "good morning, I love you," and "goodnight, I love you," at the very least. This felt odd to me. I was eager to find Wifi, which I would soon find out was not an easy task.
Once we were out of the terminal, we walked down flights of stairs to the "Underground." An underground, smelly tram that would take us to whatever destination we would like to go. I would soon find out that I would be well-acquainted with this strange but convenient public transportation. It was around 80 pounds for a week Oyster Card to ride the tube around London, and this seemed expensive, but I had no other choice but to spend this money. It was around $120 American dollars, and I winced at this price for a crammed, rather disgusting underground tube.
We felt like real Londoners, riding the tube into the city. No one spoke to one another on this tram, and it reminded me of the subway in Los Angeles or New York: everyone was trying to get somewhere, and there was no time for small talk. I refrained from speaking on the tube, because once everyone heard my American accent, I received some unwarranted stares from strangers. They were mostly curious, but I looked enough like a European that if I didn't speak, I fit right in.
We exited the tube, coming out from underground like the three blind mice that we were, but when we surfaced, I was right in the heart of London. I felt a ridiculous smile spread across my face. Cars were on the wrong sides of the rode, and they were exceptionally tiny. People sat opposite of the driver's side to drive, and honked their horns at people who jaywalked nonchalantly.
We got off at the Holloway Road stop, so we could see where Kayla lived and where she went to class. Her apartment was tiny, cramped and smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. The hallways were filled with the smell of trash, and though I was happy to see where she lived, I was ready to leave immediately. I could not believe the price she was paying to live in this student housing. This was London for you: expensive and small compared to back home.
We grabbed some coffee at a nearby cafe, and it was quirky and cute. I envied Kayla for getting to spend so much time in this strange but wonderful place.
We walked to the Arsenal stop, even though we could just taken the Underground. I rolled my suitcase across the cobblestone road (I kid you not), making a ridiculous amount of noise. We walked past the Arsenal stadium, as the sun was setting, and it all still felt so surreal. Once we arrived at our Airbnb, a magical place to say the least, I was ready to get some sleep.
The place where we were staying was an old walk-up house with old brick and so much character. It was three stories, and looked even more beautiful in person. We went into our room and explored the house that we shared with the owners. I couldn't imagine having to stay with strangers on a regular basis, but our hosts did it all the time.
I was so glad that we had chosen to stay here instead of a hostile. The house was decorated contemporary-modern, with beautiful art. The garden off the kitchen was a magical place, and I knew we had to eat breakfast out there the next morning if the weather permitted it.
The guest bathroom was huge, with plants growing in the showering and along the walls. There was no shower door, which I still think was so peculiar, but I loved it. There was constant music playing off of an old stereo, and a female's voice would interrupt the music every so often to say "just chill." I thought this was so hilarious, but I took the advice.
On day 2, we explored the same parts of the city for the most part, except we went to Covent Garden, where we had the most delicious fish-n-chips I had ever eaten and a beer that tasted hoppy and delicious. I noticed how small the portion sizes were and how scarce the filtered water was, and I knew I had to adjust. I bought sparkling water at a place called Sansburry's, which is similar to our Safeway, and had to deal with drinking out of plastic bottles for a week.
There was an overwhelming amount of market booths down by Covent Garden, so I bought a backpack that was a knock-off of a brand I loved, and I bought my little sister a fake Gucci belt, which I knew she would love. I clutched my purse tightly to my chest, as pit pocketing was common in Europe, and I wasn't taking any chances, especially since it was beginning to get dark.
My currency that I had brought from back home was depleting quicker than I had expected, so I prepared myself for the unruly amount of funds I would need to spend to simply eat and get to places in this city.
That night I went to sleep feeling like I had seen all that my eyes could possibly see in one day. I was exhausted, but it was just the beginning.
No comments:
Post a Comment